Send My Regards

Chapter Two

Dusk set itself upon Puddletown and Oliver Wood finally called it quits. He had been flying for hours, doing his daily laps and dives and he was quite tired now and incredibly thirsty. Oliver contemplated drinking the shower instead of taking one. He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel and headed for the locker room. What he did there is best left to the imagination but it involved being naked under a lot of very hot water. Once he had cleaned up and his fingers had thoroughly pruned, he packed up and headed home; very satisfied with his athletic progress. So satisfied, in fact, that he thought it a good idea to share a drink with a dear friend. Angelina Johnson's flat was on his way home and so he mounted his broom, threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, and took off at top speed.

The night was cool and the wind rushed by his ears and tossed his brown hair wildly. Heading west, he faced a most beautiful purple and orange sky and felt invincible. Young, healthy, playing Quidditch for a living; he beamed all the way to Angelina's front steps. Oliver could hear faint giggling coming from inside and suspected Angelina was decent enough to have company. Still, his manners encouraged him to knock. Seconds later, Katie Bell opened the door. Oliver was a bit surprised.

"Katie...um...hi," he said. "Johnson here?"

Katie smiled. "What? You don't like me answering the door? Fine."

With that, she slammed it shut in his face. Oliver reeled back slightly in bewilderment and stunned silence and found his nose only inches from the door. He blinked for several seconds and then glanced to his side where a lively couple made quite a ruckus stumbling into their flat. In his distraction, Angelina's door opened again and Katie grabbed his collar and yanked him inside. "Get in here," she laughed.

Oliver stumbled in and straightened out his shirt.

"Who is it, Katie?" Angelina called from the washroom.

Katie looked Oliver up and down. "Just a big dumb git named Oliver Wood."

"I'm not dumb," Oliver said, forgetting to defend the rest of Katie's statement. He followed Katie into the kitchen and leaned on the frame of the entry way; crossing his arms over his chest.

Katie sat at the dining room table. "You can sit, Oliver. I won't bite you. I promise."

Oliver dropped his arms and sat carefully opposite of Katie. There was a moment of awkward silence. Oliver tried to think of something to say. He didn't' see Katie that often and when he did, she usually was there for other reasons, and those reasons didn't include seeing him.

"So," Oliver said and sighed. "You...look...well."

Katie snorted. "Thanks. How's Puddlemere?"

"Great! We're heading to the finals!"

"I heard. So what's a handsome bloke like yourself doing over an innocent girl's flat instead of practicing?"

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "Um...saying 'hello'?"

The answer worked well enough for Katie. She shrugged it off and Angelina emerged from the bathroom. She smiled at Oliver. "Hello, Wood," she said.

Oliver nodded politely. "Johnson."

"Aren't you supposed to be at practice?"

"Nope!" Katie answered for him. "He came here to molest us!"

Oliver looked deeply mortified. "I did not! What a terrible assumption! I only came by to--!"

"I was joking, Oliver. Relax," Katie deadpanned.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat.

"Hey, Wood!" Katie said suddenly; her eyes lighting up. "Did you see the Daily Prophet?"

"Katie, don't," Angelina scolded.

"What? Why?" Oliver asked and curiously peered down at the paper Katie shoved before him.

There were several moments of intense silence in which Oliver read the headlines. Katie grinned and Angelina stared uneasily at him. Then, suddenly, Oliver's face went slack and a wave of nausea hit him. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. Katie laughed and Angelina ran to Oliver's side to make sure he didn't pass out. Obviously, he knew what the news of Death Eater attacks would do to Quidditch. "I don't feel well," he choked.

"Come on," Angelina said and urged him to stand. She glared at Katie. "You are evil."

Katie still sniggered. "I know. You love it."

Angelina couldn't help but smirk as she led a dazed Oliver to the washroom to put a cold towel against his head. Katie stood in the doorway and watched in amusement.

"Sit," Angelina said to Wood and urged him to sit on the edge of the tub. She gave him a wet towel and he pressed it against his forehead. "Put your head between your knees before you pass out."

Katie giggled. "Oh, Oliver. We love you. You're always priceless."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Just then, there was a loud and muffled pounding at the front door. In unison, Katie and Angelina both looked up and towards the sound.

"Who could that be? Alicia's away on holiday," Angelina said.

Katie shrugged and glanced down the hallway. The pounding came again, much more prominent this time. They could hear the dishes in Angelina's cupboards rattling as the walls vibrated from the force of the knocking. And then came the unmistakable sound of a man's voice. It was muffled and indecipherable, but it certainly didn't sound like the Weasley twins.

"Oliver?" Angelina asked.

"Hmm?"

"Do you feel well enough to check the door?"

Oliver slowly looked up from where his head was buried in the towel. The heavy pounding came again. What was the big deal? It was just a strong knocker. Oliver shook his head and stood with a sigh, still feeling a bit woozy. He said nothing as he headed down the hall to the front door with Angelina and Katie peering curiously over his shoulders. The knocking was louder now as they approached the entrance way and even Oliver was getting a bit hesitant. "Stay here," he said and the girls stayed put.

The knocking seemed to have become dull thuds now as if someone was leaning heavily against the door. For safety, Oliver pulled out his wand and put his hand on the knob. "Who is it?" he asked. No response. He glanced at Katie and Angelina before keeping his wand at the ready and pulling open the door.

What happened next didn't really register in his mind fast enough. He just found himself on the floor with a very heavy Marcus Flint weighing him down. Oliver rolled his body off him and was about to spat out a string of curses until he saw his face....and the rest of him. Angelina screamed. "MARCUS!"

The pounding at the door had been Flint. It was no wonder he had a hard time knocking as he used the frame for support and forced his broken arm to knock. He tried to call Angelina's name, but it came out as a muffled cry of pain. When someone finally opened the door, he collapsed.

Angelina ran to his side as Oliver scrambled away. Marcus was in a horrid state. His lip and nose had been bleeding profusely but now caked itself on his skin. His left cheek and chin were red and purple and swelling and Angelina could see that his right arm was broken as well as every single one of his fingers. His hair and clothes were tussled and splattered in blood.

Oliver stood next to Katie and they both stared in horror as Angelina fretted over Marcus. They didn't know what to do or say.

"Marcus!" Angelina tried to wake him.

"Angelina....," Katie whispered. "Is he....?"

"He's alive," Angelina said forcefully and wiped away her tears. "Shit, what the hell happened!? Marcus!"

She went to gently touch his bruises to survey them when he opened his eyes and tried to grab her wrists but he only let his hand fall and grimaced. His chest rattled.

"Marcus, don't move!" Angelina said. "Ok? Just stay still. Merlin, who did this to you!?"

He licked his blood-caked lips. "...Dad."

Angelina's face went white with horror. She turned and looked at Katie over her shoulder and she, too, had the same terrified expression. Could the Daily Prophet be true? Was William Flint really Marcus's father and did he do this...?

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's," Angelina said quickly.

"No!" Marcus said in a raspy voice. "Can't. He'll go there."

There was a round of silence until Angelina wiped her eyes and regained control. "Katie...could you go into the washroom and get the first aid kit?"

Katie did as she was told without a word and came jogging out seconds later with a wooden box filled with various ointments. She knelt next to Angelina and her eyes, now no longer mischievous, told her she'd help with whatever she needed. Oliver, however, remained frozen standing. He was looking at his two of his best friends working on his worst enemy and wasn't sure what to do in this situation. Marcus did look bad.

"Help me get him up," Angelina said and looked at Wood. Her eyes begged him. "Please."

He blinked once and hesitated for a second until he saw her eyes; brown and glistening with tears as she stared at him desperately. His heart sank and he knelt beside her to hoist Flint to his feet. Marcus gave a cry of pain and leaned heavily on all three of them; gritting his teeth against his broken body. It was then that he noticed Wood was there and whined. "Aw, fuck. Why is he here?"

"Marcus, don't worry," Angelina said. "He won't tell anyone. Right, Oliver?" She glared at him.

Oliver's instincts to survive made him say, "Right."

They managed to stumble into Angelina's bedroom and leaned him down onto the bed where he immediately lost consciousness again. Angelina sniffled and got the first aid kit again. She stood next to the bed and pulled out all the ointments and bandages she had.

Katie gently took Wood's elbow. "Come on."

With one last glance at Marcus and Angelina, Katie and Oliver left them to be alone. Angelina vaguely heard the door of her bedroom close but her mind was focused on Marcus and taking away his pain. She had never seen him like this. Marcus was no stranger to severe injuries but he always pushed them away. Not this time. He was clearly suffering as he slept with his face screwed up in agony. Angelina wanted to know what happened. This was unacceptable. To see Marcus so broken was frightening. He was her second backbone. This shouldn't be happening.

She dipped a cloth in some ointment and began her work.

***

Hands folded like vices, Oliver and Katie sat like the statues of fate in the absolute silence of Angelina's dining room. The air was heavy and still. Even the clock seemed dead. The two friends faced each other but their eyes remained down as if any solitary movement would spark the apocalypse.

It had been an hour since Marcus Flint had shown up half dead on Angelina's doorstep. This would have been Oliver's dream come true but then he saw how upset Angelina was. Turns out he, himself, wasn't much better than Flint after all. He still hated the prick, though...

Angelina finally emerged from the bedroom and the spell of silence was broken. Oliver and Katie stood. Angelina looked exhausted and her eyes were red with tears. "Thank you for staying, guys," she said softly. "You didn't have to."

"How is he?" Katie asked.

"He's fine...I think. I did the best I could. He's just sleeping now."

"You look like you could use a nap yourself."

Angelina forced herself to smile. "Just a bit scared, that's all."

"Of Flint?" Oliver asked.

"Not of him," she responded and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder towards her bedroom. "Of his father." She quietly sat down with her friends at the table and lowered her voice. "The name in the Daily Prophet; the one in the Death Eater list..."

Katie went white. "You don't really think...?"

"That his father is a Death Eater? Look what he did to Marcus!"

Oliver finally intervened. This was all news to him. "Wait, wait, wait. What's going on?"

Angelina sighed and flopped back in her chair. "You know the article about Death Eaters, Oliver? Well, one of them was listed as William Flint. We didn't know if the person had any relation to Marcus but now it seems William Flint is his father."

"His dad is a Death Eater?" Oliver repeated. "Well, that settles it. I don't want you hanging out with a Death Eater."

Angelina glared at him. "Marcus isn't a Death Eater."

"But his father is."

"He didn't know that, Oliver. He hasn't seen his mother or father since he was a child. So don't put him on the same level as them. You know nothing about his life."

Oliver, for once, went silent.

"So, what do we do?" asked Katie. "Should we go to the Ministry?"

Angelina sighed. "I don't know. I think we should wait until Marcus gives us more information. We don't know where William is or if he really is responsible for this. We don't want to put Marcus in any kind of situation that could get worse by us interfering. For now, can we just let him sleep?"

Katie nodded. "Do you want us to spend the night?"

Angelina contemplated this with a far-away gaze. "No. I'll be ok with him. Besides, I think he felt bad we all saw him like that."

"What if his dad comes for him?" Oliver warned.

"He doesn't know where I live or that I'm even Marcus's friend. We'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll owl you, ok?"

Katie smiled and hugged her friend, suddenly. She held on for several seconds before heading to the door with Oliver. He turned to Angelina again with a stern expression. "If anything happens--anything at all--owl me."

"I will," Angelina said and smiled tearfully at him. He was so protective sometimes.

Quietly, Katie and Oliver left Angelina in the eerie solitude of her flat. Almost immediately, she wished they had stayed after all but she wanted to make Marcus comfortable and he'd be embarrassed if she kept company in the house. She was afraid to return to her bedroom; scared to see him in his state but she swallowed her fear and forced herself to tiptoe down the hall and quietly open the door to her room.

Absolute peace.

Angelina let out a long string of air. Her beating heart tickled. She was unsure of herself now. Should she stay with him or leave him so as to not make him feel weak? Marcus would hate her if she coddled him. But he couldn't have gone to her flat if he didn't want help, right? Before she could reach a decision, Marcus's voice broke the silence and made her jump.

"Johnson."

Angelina's heart thumped furiously. "You're awake."

"Where am I?" His eyes were still closed and his voice was parched.

"At my flat." Angelina approached the bed. She wanted to touch him but was afraid he'd break.

Marcus took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I can't stay here. My dad...he'll come looking for me."

Finally, Angelina stood at his side worriedly. "Marcus...your dad...William...the one in the Daily Prophet? He did this to you?"

Marcus nodded. "The great prick."

"But why, Marcus? Why would he do this to his own son?" She gently brushed his hair back from his forehead. It was matted with blood.

Marcus finally opened his eyes and looked at her. "Are you daft or did you just not listen to anything I've told you about him? I have to go home or he'll find me. And if he found me once..."

"Marcus, I'm not going to let you go back to him! He'll hurt you again!"

"I've got no fucking choice, woman. He'll do worse if I don't go back. I should have never even have come here."

He started to sit up but Angelina gently pushed him back down. "Marcus, please just stay one night and rest. You should see yourself! I mean, it's only been one hour since you came. Your fingers and arms were broken and I mended them the best I could but....at least go to St. Mungo's."

"I will," he lied. "Now I have to go." His tone was nothing Angelina could argue with. She had no choice but to let him gingerly sit up. Marcus winced and let his healing muscles adjust to pressure before swinging his legs over the bed and standing. Then, it all hit him. "Fuck."

Angelina widened her eyes in concern as she stood near him to catch him should he collapse. "What?"

"Wood was here, wasn't he?"

Angelina paused and then smirked. "I won't lie to you..."

"He's a witness, and you know what this means?" Angelina shook her head innocently. "He must die," Marcus concluded.

"Yes, I'm sure," Angelina laughed.

"I can still kick his ass."

"Who couldn't?" She paused. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

Marcus actually contemplated this offer but finally sighed and said no. Despite his injuries, he wouldn't let Angelina help him to the door. When he turned to look at her, she was crying.

"Don't," he said sternly and cupped her face; wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Johnson, you know you're not supposed to cry. There is no reason to cry. Stop."

"Marcus, I'm scared, you idiot! Your dad is a Death Eater and look what he's done to you! I don't want you to go home! What if he kills you?!"

"He won't."

"How do you know?!"

"Because...look, I can't tell you anything right now. He won't kill me. Trust me."

"I can't! You're a Slytherin!"

Marcus smirked. "Flatterer."

"Marcus, please."

He sighed. "I can't stay here, Johnson."

"Go to the Ministry! Report him!"

"Not until I get more information. Remember how I told you that the last I heard of my father, he was rich and popular? His friends could be in the Ministry. I can't do shit. Not yet at least. Just don't worry. You know I fucking hate it when you worry."

Angelina's shoulders slumped. "Well, look at you! You make it so easy!"

Her eyes, once again, begged him to stay but he shook his head. "I have to go. Don't contact me and DON'T go to the Ministry." Marcus quickly swung the door open and started to leave.

"Marcus!" Angelina said quickly. He turned and Angelina placed a deep and desperate kiss against his lips. "Be careful."

Marcus kissed her back and gave her a cocky grin to reassure her. Then, he was gone.

***

At night, the streets of Falmouth were anything but deserted. But as the wind scraped the dried leaves along the cobblestones in their usual swirling dance, there was something foreboding about the streets that night as well. Black stormy clouds rolled in and melted right in with the blackness of the night; blotting out the stars. This was when the filthy and the wealthy come out from their homes to drink, when the howls and barks of dogs echo across the alleys, and when the poor and the bangtails stalked the unwary passerby from the shadows. They were like a clan that had every face, every pub, every purse memorized. But on this particular night, there was a new face.

A woman remained tense but hushed behind the brick wall of a shop and shivered. However, the cold was the last thing on her mind. For once, she was sober as she could ever be. She forced herself to be; forced herself to face her problems rather than drink them away. It was a day ago that she stole a copy of The Daily Prophet from a vendor and read about unspeakable horrors. This time, however, it had a name.

William Flint.

It was that very name that brought her to Falmouth. Not for William, but for another and she waited and watched and found him. There was no mistaking. She stole a glance around the corner of her hiding spot and saw him walking down the sidewalk right her way. Quickly, the woman brought her head back and remained still as the man approached her alley. Just as it seemed he would pass, something behind him crashed and he turned. She stole her chance...

***

Marcus was in no physical or mental state to apparate, unfortunately, but the night air would do him good. He thought a lot about what happened and what was to come. Would his father be at his flat when he returned? The bastard stormed out right after the fight. What would happen? Would he really lose his team or worse....Angelina? Marcus clenched his fists despite the pain of his mending fingers. No one he knew was safe. Not his team, not Angelina, hell, not even himself. Something had to be done but what?

Fuck. Thinking hurts.

Just then, a loud bang echoed behind him. He spun quickly and saw a stray cat digging into the trash can it had just knocked over. Marcus cursed and turned to head back on his way when he stopped abruptly to keep himself from colliding into someone who had stepped right in front of him: a harmless beggar. She stood inches from him and her green eyes were wide and scared as if she was staring into the face of God himself. She saw the bruise on his cheek and wanted to reach up and caress it but for the life of her, she was too frightened. The shawl around her petite and frail body billowed in a sudden gentle gust.

Marcus, too, was frozen but it seemed to only be a temporary shock. His face hardened. "Get out of my way. I don't have any money for you," he growled and pushed past her.

The woman was only able to pivot on the spot as if her bare feet were nailed to the sidewalk. She watched the fleeting back of Marcus and could not call out for him. How could she? He didn't know her anymore. But she knew him; knew those green eyes just like her own; knew that face. That face granted her one last glance over his shoulder as he walked away, the face of a man in grave danger.

"Marcus," the beggar woman whispered. "I've come to finally keep you safe."

In 24 hours, he was going to have one hell of a family reunion.